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26.3.15
the job part three
and so it begins.
sky stretched above me a banner, a wide flat ribbon of orange. orange. orange in every way. sour and sweet, so wet and full.
once humming with light. bruised at the edges, now.
the things that live - they quiet. the portions of chirrup and rustle slow to a soft wall of nothingness. i feel the sound, i feel the light soften around me. a cocoon of darkness dropping from somewhere far, far above and far, far away suddenly to my feet. betwixt the parts of the floor, the darkness fills. thick and warm, so thick that i feel it nearly consumes me, drown me down to the floor.
nearly.
i can still feel the skin on my arm with my hand. hear my breath. feel the blink of an eye; the brush of my hair on my face.
i still see. i see now, as i saw before. the clear black of the sky studded by pinpricks so cool and clear i can taste them. cold and white.
the forest, before ablaze, sparkling to and fro, ha become something new. not jutting and jostling but one soft, swaying shape. slowly hissing in the breeze, a breathing creature below me.
sometimes, something shrieks. a smeared ember of a star; a voice in a tree.
i feel warmth. i feel a soupy heat around me. a blanket for the creatures; the plants and rocks and dirt and stones.
the joints of my body ache with use. the palms of my hand crisp and rough. my eyes swell with the dark, full of shiny blackness. i feel them stare in light they were not meant for.
for the first time, my knees bend and lower - my hands fall backwards, legs splay, back bends, feet adjust and all my body moves with my weight as if they are completing a dance i do not know. harmoniously, muscles stretch and contract, the joints of my skeleton, buried below wet purple flesh and blood, they move too. it happens all at once and then, here i lay. a sweet, deep ache of work spent settles, as if it too, must lie.
i feel twigs and moss move to accommodate my body. we are the same.
here, i rest. the sky and i - we are heavy in darkness together. the heat and the silence are too.
i too become the night.
it is me.
whispered by killa b at 11:21 PM |
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